I prefer reading non-fiction. If I read fiction, something about it has to attract me and make me want to read more. I usually test a fiction book by scanning through the first few pages, and if it doesn't pique my interest, it is discarded and I move on to something else.
The first two things that made me borrow this book from another campus was the title. Then, I saw commentary and a recommendation from another author, Cate Kennedy, whose works I've always enjoyed reading. I scan through the first few pages.... and on page 8, this passage captured me and made me want to reach the conclusion:
"He was twenty-five the first time he entered a large public library, and was almost flattened by the weight of his own ignorance. There was just so much there. He had hoped to find a book on carpentry; there was more than a dozen. He chose one at random, his hands grey against the paper despite the cake of good soap the library provided. He was sleeping in the street then, living in a world of dark and narrow lanes, and the sudden excess of light and space and knowledge was brutal. He felt exposed in its glare, grubby and uncouth. He slid the volume back. There was shame in the way he dropped his head, his hand trailing columns on his way out. But by looking down her saw a simple plaque, missed on entering, which read: "For the people of the city". It stopped him in his tracks. The people of the city - wasn't that him? It was true that he was grimy, ignorant and all the rest, but that library was there for him. He could read any book he liked. He could read all day, every day if he chose. Nothing was stopping him. Nothing! The power of this thought was dizzying: the world spread before him."
Ok... maybe this is a huge clue as to why I became a librarian. :)
The book's setting is Melbourne in the 1800s, going through Federation to the 1920s. The author, Lisa Lang comments that this piece of fiction is based on an actual person by the name of Edward Cole. I'm yet to find out how much of her book is factual, but I was engaged the whole way through. I also enjoyed her vivid descriptions of Melbourne in this time period, and even though she doesn't always name places like we know them now (i.e. the Paris end of Collins Street), as a Melbournian, you instinctively know which part of the CBD she is referring to. A great read, hard to put down. Akin to another Australian work I enjoyed by Alan Marshall, titled The grass is singing